Without Peer
by Jacob M. Bosch
Summary: Pan enters the Tenkaichi Budoukai to gain someone's recognition and reap a little revenge on the person who took her Grandfather away.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Without Peer (1/5-ish)

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters. Don't sue; you'll get nothin' anyway.

Rated: Teens and up

Summery: Pan enters the Tenkaichi Budoukai to gain someone's recognition and reap a little revenge on the person who took her Grandfather away.

* * *

I know I shouldn't blame him for how my relationship with my grand father turned out, but I'm a third Saiya-Jin and Saiya-Jin aren't known for their rationale. Ask Vegeta. I should have been angry with Grandpa if I was to be angry with anyone, but if you ever met my gramps you'd understand how hard it is to be mad at him. Don't ask Vegeta about that, though. But there it was, I hated Ubuu with a passion and I wanted to use the upcoming Tenkaichi Budoukai to finally deal with my issues concerning the bumpkin.

I was going to beat the living crap out of him.

I didn't fully embrace my Saiya-Jin heritage until I turned fourteen-years-old. That's not to say I never liked fighting until then, because I did love fighting, I even trained regularly with Trunks and my Uncle Goten—both were half-Saiya-Jin—but they weren't all that interested in reaching their full potential. At best my Saiya-Jin role models only trained to stay in shape, not attain the lofty heights of strength their fathers' had.

My father was half Saiya-Jin as well, and going by all the stories Mom and Grams told me he used to be unimaginably strong, stronger even than my Gramps and Vegeta. It's hard to believe looking at him now. I love my father, I do, but he's the biggest softy I ever met. He doesn't like to fight, or train, or shout, or do anything remotely confrontational. Well, okay, besides ground me for neglecting my homework or picking on my little brother, but other than that, he's a big softy, not big on rowdy Saiya-Jin behavior.

Vegeta. What can I say about mister royal pants that won't have you running for the hills? He never liked me—I think. He never out and out told me so, but he's always treated me like an invisible serf. I knew he was strong, how could I not? He never wasted an opportunity to rub my Dad's face in his clear superiority. Always calling my Dad a lazy bookworm… I really don't like Vegeta.

He was never a person I looked up to, and his going on and on about Saiya-Jin pride and my Father's lack of it, didn't inspire me to embrace that aspect of myself.

I wonder if Grandpa Goku was around when I was growing up if I would've found that illusive pride in my Saiya-Jin blood? It wasn't as though he acted like being a Saiya-Jin was the best thing in the world to begin with. I guess he respects other stuff about being a Saiya-Jin. I know he embraced the part of being Saiya-Jin that made fighting such a joy to him and his kin. But beyond that, I don't really know.

I didn't know a whole lot about Gramps besides what my relatives and Krillin told me. Which is why I hated Ubuu, because he probably knew my Gramps better than I did. No, there's no probably about it, he did know Goku better; Ubuu was more his grandchild than I was.

* * *

I flew straight to the stadium after school. School let out early so everyone could watch the Budoukai on TV, or if they were very lucky, see it live in person. I arrived in time to get in line to sign up for the disqualifying rounds. 

This year the Budoukai's disqualifying heats would be televised on Pay Per View—my very own maternal Grandpa, Mr. Satan, had set up the TV deal. Gramps stood to make millions off the venture. I was weary of being on TV, not many of my friends from school knew I was a fighter, and none of them knew how strong I was. I was going to go through with competing, there was no changing my mind and I'd have to deal with the fall out later.

The line at the sign-up booth was long; it extended twenty feet out the door. I didn't see anyone I knew from my place in line—dead last—which meant Granddad, Goten, and the others got here hours before I did. Well, they didn't have to wait to get let out of class, and skipping? Dad would have grounded me into the next century if I ditched a single minute of school. Then Grandma would have been waiting in the wings to add another hundred years.

Dad didn't care for me being in the Budoukai in the first place. He was worried I'd end up ignoring my scholastics and focus more on fighting, and entering the tournament didn't assuage his concerns. I tried to assure him I wasn't interested in going that route despite the none-stop training I'd done for two years. It didn't help my case any I couldn't tell him why I suddenly wanted to embrace my surly Saiya-Jin side. I wasn't sure how'd he react.

"What are you doing in this line, cutie? It's not for refreshments, you know."

I was wearing a knock-off of my Dad's old gi, I even had the weird-looking cape to go with it, so I wasn't reveling any part of my body except my head and the slivers of my ankles. So I don't understand why the guy who got in line behind me patted my butt. There was no fighting outside the ring, certainly no killing, so I let him fondle me, hoping he got bored after a while.

He didn't, not even after two minutes.

"Instead of embarrassing yourself why don't you wait for me after I win the tourney and we go somewhere an' celebrate?"

I was getting upset. Not weepy upset, but seeing a red blinding rage upset. I wondered if I could punch the rude bastard away from the stadium fast enough the officials didn't see. Then I felt the man's hand go away.

"Hey, Pan!"

I whirled around and saw Grandpa standing behind me, a huge grin on his handsome face. He wore a blue gi with a white belt and black shoes. He cut a striking, powerful figure, and it was hard to believe he looked so young—his age being somewhere around fifty-nine or sixty-years-old. Standing behind him was Ubuu, quiet and smiling politely. He had on an all white gi with a black belt and boots. With his flawless brown skin the gi was… an interesting contrast.

There was no one behind Ubuu; the vulgar man was gone.

"Grandpa!"

I should have known Goku couldn't have arrived at the Tournament early. I have no clear memory of him being on time for anything—except a meal. He showed up before food hit the table.

"Good afternoon, Pan-chan," Ubuu greeted, his voice was also polite.

I didn't say anything back for a long moment, secretly enjoying his growing discomfort at my silence. But I wasn't silent just to make Ubuu nervous; I was probing him with my senses, trying to get a read on how strong he was. I'd seen him not too long ago at Goku's house. Ubuu was there to visit because he promised Grandma he would. She'd wanted to make him a big dinner (as if she knew how to make any other kind). You'd think after the way her husband took off to train the dark-skinned young man my Grandma would feel some resentment toward him, but she adored Ubuu, she plain thought he was the best-behaved and helpful friend Goku ever had. He helped wash dishes and cleaned the kitchen after dinner, which was more than Goku had done around the house in three decades of marriage. Then he waved goodbye and was gone in a flash over the mountains, heading for his village somewhere in the deep desert.

I never felt more than a spark of his power the whole time. I was hoping he'd tap into his real strength in preparation for his upcoming preliminary match. I scanned him, and damn it, he kept his ki under tight control. Just like Grandpa, Ubuu didn't flaunt his power until absolutely necessary. There was no telling what I could expect when I finally faced him in the ring.

"Hello, Ubuu," I said finally. Slightly dipping my chin at him, my eyes devoid of any warmth.

Ubuu bowed so I couldn't tell if my discourteousness hit home or not. When he straightened his expression was unbothered. Oh, boy, this guy bugs me.

"So, you're goin' to enter the Budoukai, Pan?" Grandpa asked cheerfully. I wondered if he was trying to dispel the moment, but cheerful was my Grandpa's general modus operandi.

"You bet." I looked at Ubuu. "I intend to go far," I said.

Goku laughed and placed his hand on top of my head. "Just do your best and fight with honor and I expect you will." At my Grandpa's praise a wave of pleasure went through me. I blushed and my eyes felt itchy with tears, I didn't know what to say—I couldn't speak—so I didn't say anything. He ruffled my hair and laughed.

* * *

The line moved slowly but we eventually reached the sign-up booth and filled out the necessary forms, then an official assigned us plastic sheets with numbers printed on them. I was given the number 206, Goku 207 and Ubuu 208. The prelims had already begun when we entered a small building separated from the main stadium, our competitors crowded inside waiting their turns on one of the four stages. 

An hour later, the number of fighters looking for fame and riches at the Tenkaichi Budoukai had been cut in half, and with the crowd thinned, I finally caught sight of Goten and Trunks. Goten had the number 25 taped to the front of his black muscle shirt, which topped the blue jeans and sneakers he wore. Trunks' number was 26, and he had on a blue Capsule Corp. bomber jacket, on which hung his number, a dark blue tank top under the jacket and he wore loose fitting dark blue slacks and beige boots.

"Look, there's Goten and Trunks," I said, pointing out the pair to my Grandpa and Ubuu.

"Yo, boys, have you two fought yet?" Goku asked as we walked up to them.

"Nope," Goten said, "but Vegeta has."

"Vegeta had a match?" Grandpa asked, he sounded surprised.

I almost said aloud 'And no one died?' but stayed quiet on the subject. I really don't like Vegeta.

"It ended pretty fast," Trunks said like it was obvious, which, of course, it was.

"I just can't believe he waited in line so long," Grandpa replied.

Out of our newly formed group Ubuu's match came first. The outcome was no mystery and the others talked amongst themselves during his fight, but I watched raptly. His opponent was a professional boxer. I knew him, his name was Toushi Tebukuro, and he worked out at one of Grandpa Satan's gyms in Satan City. Grandpa even trained him back when Toushi first started out in the divisions. He was good, I guess, for a normal fighter, but nowhere near Ubuu's league. I got a good sense of Ubuu's speed when he used Zanzoken to move behind Toushi. He was fast, as expected, and I calculated even if Ubuu were a thousand times faster I'd have no trouble keeping up with him.

Ubuu delivered a swift, delicate chop to the back of the boxer's baldhead and knocked him unconscious. There were cheers and hums of wonder as he walked off the stage and a couple of muscular guys in referee uniforms carried Toushi away. Ubuu came and stood next to Goku and was congratulated by the boys.

"Jeez, this is getting boring. When am I gonna get matched up?" Goten complained sullenly a few minutes later, he'd lowered to the floor and sat cross-legged with his elbows resting on his knees and his chin propped on his palms.

Looking down at him I wondered why all my girlfriends thought Goten was so hot. Sure, he had good looks and muscles, but I swear he possessed the maturity of an adolescent half their age. Maybe if my friends commented once on how sweet and earnest a guy he was I might understand the infatuation…

Trunks' number was called next. His match ended as quickly as Ubuu's, and after watching him I wasn't worried about having to go through him. Trunks was far from weak but he'd really let his skills go since I last trained with him and Goten. His speed was good, but he wasted too much energy. His control was also passable, judging from the way he neatly dispatched his opponent without causing unnecessary damage, yet it was not on my level.

Grandpa's match blew me away. During Ubuu and Trunks' matches I could see their movement. I couldn't detect Goku's at all. He'd used Instantaneous Movement. I prayed to Kami I wouldn't have to fight him before I reached Ubuu. And I especially didn't want to go up against…

"Kakarotto," Vegeta came up to us after Grandpa's match, his arms crossed over his chest, "about time you showed up. I didn't think I'd have a challenge before reaching that lack wit Satan."

I really, really don't like Vegeta.

I learned the truth about my Grandpa after I began training seriously, I also found out about the agreement among Goku and his friends, and Vegeta, to allow Grandpa Satan to win the Tenkaichi Budoukai until he retired. Vegeta agreed readily enough, but he obviously didn't do it because he liked or respected my Grandpa.

"I don't know, Vegeta, maybe one of the kids might give you a run for your money," Goku said.

"Humph." Vegeta's eyes roamed over Goten for a few seconds. My Uncle fidgeted under his appraisal and looked relieved when the Saiya-Jin's gaze moved on. Vegeta didn't even bother looking at Trunks, as if he knew he wouldn't ascertain anything new. Trunks scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed by his father's brusque assessment.

Vegeta's stare settled on Ubuu and maintained. Where his expression was dismissive with Goten and Trunks, he truly concentrated on Ubuu. The dark-skinned man let the Saiya-Jin study him without showing a hint of uneasiness.

After a few moments Vegeta 'humphed' again, and then he looked up at me.

I mentioned before how Vegeta never paid attention to me on the rare occasions we crossed paths. Though I was insulted on some level by his inhospitality, I wasn't exactly crying over his indifference. Now under his intense scrutiny I find I really wanted him to put his eyes somewhere else.

He studied me nearly as long as he studied Ubuu, but at the end of my testing Vegeta's eyebrows rose. Then his brow dropped and helped form a frown. Finally he glanced at Grandpa. "You shouldn't joke before battle, Kakarotto. These whelps might impress you, but they wouldn't make a true Saiya-Jin bat an eye."

When Vegeta strode arrogantly away, showing the number 3 on his back, I heard Goten and Trunks let out deep breaths.

"Wow, he still freaks me out!" Goten said, chuckling nervously.

"Try living with him some time," Trunks replied.

"Nah, I don't think even your millions'd be worth it."

"Hey, Pan," Grandpa whispered my way, "I guess Vegeta's noticed you got a lot stronger, huh?"

I was blushing again. Of course I was hoping Goku would notice how much I've improved and it felt good to know he'd recognized all my hard work, but he wasn't the reason why I trained. I shouldn't be so needy for his approval since I'd done without it for most my life.

But it felt so damn good to hear…

* * *

The prelim coordinator called out for the next two fighters to take the stage Goku left, and one of the names announced caught my attention. As calmly as I could I made my way up to the edge of the stage, hoping I didn't look as delighted by the man taking the platform as I felt. I ignored the comments the fighters around me made about his green skin and their whispers of 'demon'. I didn't realize Piccolo was going to be participating in the Budoukai. Now on top of beating Ubuu I'd have to worry about making my Grandpa Goku proud and put on a good show in front of the man I decided to make mine. 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Without Peer (2/5-ish)

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters. Don't sue; you'll get nothin' anyway.

Rated: Teens and up

Summery: Pan enters the Tenkaichi Budoukai to gain someone's recognition and reap a little revenge on the person who took her Grandfather away.

* * *

I fell in love with Piccolo when he came to my fourteenth birthday party. And my feelings took me by complete surprise, let me tell you. At the time I had no use for boys. While my girl friends swooned over some immature boy at school I was finding new ways to get out of homework to go do cooler, more exciting things. After all, my whole life I heard about the adventures the adults around me went on as kids. I wanted the daring-do my Dad and his friends took for granted when they were my age and younger. I didn't want the world to constantly face utter devastation or anything like that—not that I couldn't handle it—but it seemed unfair I was born after my family and their friends brought Earth to a lasting peace where nothing dangerous or remotely edgy happened anymore. 

On the day of my fourteenth birthday party I wanted to be anywhere but at home. I never got any fun presents. I had to pretend to gush over the clothes and books my folks always give me; and while on occasion my Grandpa Satan doled out a few hundred Zenni, most of that went into my college fund.

Marron and her folks showed up and I was happy about that, since her family and mine didn't get together like we used to and Marron was like my super-cool cousin. She was beautiful and wasn't boy crazy like most girls I knew, she dated when she felt like but could go months without a guy in her life and she couldn't care less.

Eighteen, Marron's mother, was an older version of her; equally as beautiful and the exact opposite of the women in my family, myself included. Eighteen rarely spoke unless she had something to say, at which point everyone listened, even Vegeta paid attention though he tried not to let on. She was unsettling in a way; those smooth, perfect features eternally young, never cheaply displayed emotion. It was scary to me not knowing when someone's mad or happy—or ready to kill or hug you—since people in my family pretty much wore their hearts on their sleeve. How Krillin wrangled a loving marriage out Eighteen, I'll never know.

Though I never considered Eighteen aunt material, Krillin was very much like an uncle to me. I remember growing up how he'd regal me with bawdy tales of my Grandpa, Bulma, Yamucha, Oolong and him when everybody and their mother wanted to find the Dragonballs. He wasn't afraid to be silly and act out the stories just to make me laugh. And he taught me how to be a smart ass, too. For a guy so good-natured most the time, Krillin had a scathing, sarcastic wit. He always had a good zinger or two to sling discreetly behind Vegeta's back.

I may have been willing to crawl out of my skin to get away from the party, but my extended family made my wanderlust bearable.

My folks decided to hold my party at Grandma's house. Goku hadn't returned from training Ubuu at the time and Uncle Goten moved out the year before and I guess they thought she'd appreciate the company even though Great Grandpa still lived with her. Chi-Chi's house was way out in the middle of god's nowhere—the nearest Cineplex was like fifty miles away! Which totally made me resent all the times my Dad reminded me he had to study ten hours a day when he was a kid. Well, what else did he have to do? I had movies and video games and an honest to god social life, and he had, what, trees to climb and a pet dragon to occupy his time?

It was prettier out there, I admit, and quieter, too, than in Satan City. I guess that's why we held the party outside. Grandma had tables set up not far from the house one long wooden table where we all sat and another small wooden table where she and my Mom placed the steaming pots of stews and plates of sliced roasted meats. Chi-Chi never really got out of the habit of cooking up meals big enough to feed a small army so there was plenty to eat for everyone. And though Goku wasn't around, between Goten, Dad, my brother Leurc, Great Grandpa and myself I doubted there'd be any leftovers.

Marron and I sat next to each other. I don't remember exactly what we talked about, I recall bitching about Leurc and her saying something about this guy who was chasing her at school. My parents chatted with hers, Eighteen look really bored, but I wasn't sure. Leurc was quietly fooling around with his laptop ignoring everyone else at the table while he leisurely shoveled stew into his mouth. Grandma was busy going back and forth into the house to bring out more food and asking everyone if they were good before joining us at the table beside her dad to eat.

Then I noticed all at once every one got quiet. I looked at my folks and saw my Dad with an expression I recognized as pure joy, his gaze focused behind me. Both Marron and I turned and I think my eyes got wide, comically wide. Out of all my Dad's friends I knew Piccolo the least. I think I knew more about Vegeta. I can count on one finger the times I've seen him, that one time being at the last Tenkaichi Budoukai I went to and competed in when I was five.

He'd come to remind me of Eighteen, in that neither was talkative and the least excessive people I knew. One way they were different beyond the obvious was that I found Piccolo more mysterious. Eighteen was unfathomable at times, don't get me wrong, but Piccolo was a real alien. He didn't eat food, had two entities merged with his body, and he didn't think like a human or a Saiya-jin.

Piccolo cuts an impressive figure: he's tall, really tall, only my Great Grandpa towered above him. He was green and powerfully built. Piccolo was like a big elf, a big green elf, at least that's how I viewed him when I was a kid. Older, I thought he looked like one of those dark elves I read about in mangas: full of potential wickedness and exotic beauty. Yes, Piccolo was attractive in an unusual way.

I liked unusual.

"Piccolo-sama! I'm glad you decided to come after all," my Dad said, getting up from the table and walking over to the Namek-Jin.

Piccolo nodded curtly. "Dende suggested it. Apparently he thinks I've been cooped up on the Lookout too long."

Dad laughed. "Wow, you think?"

Piccolo out and out growled at Gohan. I didn't image there were very many people who could get away with laughing at Piccolo the way my Dad just did. "I'm glad you are amused, Gohan."

My Dad chuckled then stepped next to the Namek-Jin and then they began walking towards the table.

"He's a tall drink of water, isn't he?" Marron whispered in my ear.

I was startled and glanced at her. She was smiling at me like she knew something I didn't. "What?"

"Piccolo. You know: tall, dark, handsome and antennae?"

For some reason I felt my face go prickly with heat. "He's not…"

"Not what?" Marron was still whispering, we both were, but I couldn't figure out why.

"Nothing," I said, ducking my head down.

Marron was quiet and I hazarded a glimpse at her. She was staring at me, her head tilted to the side. Her long, beautifully styled hair drapped over half her face. She swept her locks back and grinned at me, then she pushed my bangs away from my forehead and kissed me there. "Happy birthday, Pan-chan," she said

The party wound down, culminating with me opening presents. I got the standard clothes and books from my folks, Grandma, and Great Grandpa; I was _ecstatic_, of course. Uncle Goten, in-between jobs, promised to take me fishing the next day. I got Five hundred Zenni in an envelope from Grandpa Satan, sent in lieu of showing up. Once he heard Eighteen was going to be at my party he decided not to come. Marron brought me the best gift, a one-year pass to the movie theatre chain I liked. It must have cost a fortune! Krillin and Eighteen got me a collection of DVDs, which was also pretty cool in my book.

Piccolo was the only one to not bring a gift, well, besides Leurc, whose gift I would have promptly dunked in water in case it was the kind of present that exploded.

"I was not aware a tithe was needed," he said, sounding truly baffled by the expectation.

"T-That's okay," I said. I think my head was about to burn right up. I was sitting on the grass, surrounded by my presents, thumbing the edges of the laminated pass Marron got me, doing everything in my power not to look at the green man.

"Sorry, I forgot to tell you people get gifts on their birthdays," Dad replied.

"Mmm, I see. Stand up, Pan," Piccolo said.

I looked at Piccolo's expressionless face and gulped, and I thought I heard Marron snickering. I steadily rose to my feet and gulped again when he walked towards me. I tried not to flinch, but did anyway, when he placed his talon-tipped hand on top of my head. I felt a strange fluttering of air on my body, as if for an instant I was naked and bared to the open air, then it was gone. Replaced with the sensation of a tremendous weight on my shoulders and I had to strain muscle to stay on my feet.

"Grow stronger and you'll earn what I have given you," Piccolo said. Still trying to find my balance, I looked down at the clothes I now wore. Gone were my red tank top, blue jeans and high tops, instead I found this huge weird white cape thing over my shoulders, a loose purple one-piece with no sleeves, a red cloth belt around my middle, and brownish loafers.

I looked back up at Piccolo but he'd already turned to my Dad. "Goodbye, Gohan," he said, and then he floated up into the air and flew away.

"So long, Piccolo-sama," Dad cried out, waving at the Namek-Jin's retreating figure.

I just stood there, not knowing what I felt besides like falling on my ass under the weight of my new clothes. I was almost sure he called me weak before he left and I should have been angry with that, but I wasn't. It was true. I wasn't exactly the best I could be, I knew that, but I got by. Goten and Trunks and I were equals in strength and they were way older than me!

Later that night on the drive back to Satan City I couldn't stop thinking about Piccolo's words—his accusation. It was at home laying on my bed dressed in PJ's, the strange purple and white outfit folded in the back of my closet, when I decided to get stronger. So strong that cape would weigh nothing, so strong I'd make Piccolo notice.

* * *

Piccolo quickly finished off his opponent. He was a study in perfected motion and economic energy usage. I detected his movement (it was a little disconcerting, and thrilling, to know I was actually stronger than him) but no one could deny he was an excellent fighter. 

I hide my excitement when Piccolo stepped off the stage and approached me wearing a gi nearly identical to mine, the number 40 taped across his broad chest. I was mindful to keep my head held high, though I was far from reaching Piccolo's stature. He stood before me, looking down at me thoughtfully, evaluating like Vegeta had earlier. Only I didn't feel like he was hunting a hundred and one ways to kill me. Waiting for him to speak was the longest thirty seconds of my life.

"I see you've utilized the last two years well. I look forward to seeing how far you've progressed."

Before I could respond he walked away, the crowd of fighters parting before him as he made his way to a secluded corner of the room and sat down cross-legged. He then crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. I guess he was in that position the whole time before his match and that's why I hadn't seen him.

I was flabbergasted. Our exchange was so brief and I expected more. I never hoped for gushing from Piccolo, nothing like that, but I wanted a chance to tell him all the training I did was inspired by him; that I was worthy of his respect now. Then it occurred to me he did say he wanted to see how good a fighter I'd become, which meant he'd be watching me during the Tenkaichi Budoukai. I had to prove myself in the ring if Piccolo was ever going to acknowledge me. I had to! I rejoined my Grandpa and the others and waited for my prelim match, more determined than ever.

Finally my turn came to get on the stage. The crowd shouted catcalls and whistled, but it didn't bother me. I waited for my opponent to take the stage with me. He was a large man, not uncommonly so, but he had three feet and two hundred pounds on me. He was blond and wore a white karate gi. He smiled, no _grinned_, at me and I had the feeling he wasn't taking me seriously. I wanted to take him out instantly just to rub his face in how weak he was compared to me, but after calming down I decided to keep to my game plan instead.

The referee blew his whistle and the fight began. The blond rushed me and it was at this juncture my fighting differed from the others. Goku and them used their highly advanced skills to deal with their opponents; I decided to use basics. I held my ground until the last second when the man was right on top of me, his arms outstretched to grab me. I stepped to the side took his arm and easily flipped him over into the crowd.

I won the match and left the stage. A few members of the crowd helped the blond to his feet; the rest laughed at him. It wasn't as though I was conserving my energy. Any ki I might have used would have been miniscule. I just didn't want to give Goten, Trunks, or especially Ubuu information about my prowess. Utilizing a simple throw technique was enough to win so that's what I used. Besides, it was good to use regular martial arts since I'd depended on the inherent power of my Saiya-Jin heritage for so long, and very little martial skill.

Another hour passed and the original count of two hundred and eight fighters had been cut down to twenty-six. Goten's match had ended without much ado, with Goten as the winner. We'd all qualified for the semi-finals. Now we'd fight in front of hundreds of excited spectators waiting to see the best fighters in the world challenge the unbeatable Mister Satan. The remaining combatants traveled to the main stadium, breaking up into small groups.

A lot of the contestants knew each other from previous Tenkaichi Budoukai and were friendly to one another though it was possible their friend could be the one to knock them out of the Tournament. It was a shining example of the sportsmanship the Tenkaichi Budoukai was famous for. I hung out with Goten and Trunks, though I could have done without watching them make idiots of themselves as they harassed every good-looking young woman who caught their eye. They were my only choice since Ubuu never left Goku's side. I could have gone into the stands and found my folks, but Dad was still giving me a hard time about fighting in the tournament.

I stood behind Trunks and Goten, my arms crossed over my chest and leaning against one of the railings the concession stands used to keep customers in orderly lines. The boys chatted up a couple of scatter-brained girls and I was very, very bored. I was grateful when Marron came up to me.

"Hey, Pan."

"Oh, thank Kami!"

"The guys ignoring you?" Marron asked, quickly grasping my situation.

I glared at the 'guys' and said, "It's what they're not ignoring that's getting to me."

"Really, what's that?"

I turned to Marron with what I'm sure was a nasty grin on my face, and replied, "Their dicks."

Marron laughed.

"Pan!" Goten shouted. He was scandalized. The girls he and Trunks had been talking to were clearly embarrassed and scampered away, shooting them suspicious glances. When they were at a respectable distance, the girls ran. Oops, they heard me.

Goten glowered at me. "Gohan is going to hear about your language, young lady!"

"I'm sorry, Uncle Goten!" I said as sweetly as I could. Adding a big eyes stare and some eye-batting on top of that. It was a killer expression and Goten was always helpless before it. I'm just glad Marron didn't laugh; Goten might have cotton to my tried and true swindle.

"Well… okay, just don't use that kind of language again."

"What!" Trunks exclaimed. "She just chased away some potential tai--" Trunks stopped abruptly and looked at Marron and me before quickly modifying his rant to Goten. "Um, er, dates. Dates! And that's all she gets?"

_Yeah, right, like the good looks and multi-million dollar trust fund limits your opportunities_, I thought bitchily at Trunks.

"Oh, boo-hoo," Marron said, not without bitchiness herself.

Trunks gave the blonde a heated look. "Don't you have another poor guy to grind under your heel?"

Marron and Trunks dated briefly last year. The relationship hadn't ended well. I love Marron dearly but she totally worked Trunks over. She thought he was attractive like most women in the free world did, but unfortunately Trunks was all too aware of how women saw him and let it go to his head. Marron ended up taking him down a peg or two before their split—mostly for her own amusement.

I still think Marron likes Trunks but let his arrogance blind her to his better qualities. "Not really," Marron said with an indifferent tone, a small smile on her lips, "I'm still cleaning bits of you off my pumps." I said she liked him, not that she was warm and cuddly about it.

"Ice queen!"

"Momma's boy."

"Ball buster!"

"Spoiled, narcissistic slacker."

"You--" Trunks started but Goten dragged him away. I was doing the same with Marron, but she wasn't exactly digging in her heels. She came along easily, a cool satisfied smile on her face.

"Come on, Trunks, lets go check out… something," Goten muttered feebly.

* * *

"Trunks is a nice guy, you know," I said. 

Marron and I were walking to the stands; our destination was the section where her mom and dad sat. I figured I could hang out with them until the semis began. I knew I'd avoid lectures from either Krillin or Eighteen. Krillin would probably wish me good luck and say he couldn't wait to see me in action. I wasn't expecting much conversation from Eighteen, but she sure wouldn't tell me I should be focused on getting astronomical grades instead of fighting.

"Sure, he is," Marron replied noncommittally. I thought she was being remote because she didn't want to talk about Trunks, then I realized she was actually distracted. Strange, Marron wasn't easily distracted from anything. She saw and heard everything, and her focus was sharper than any blade.

"Hey, what's going on in your nippy brain now?"

She didn't respond at first and it looked like she wasn't going to answer, then she looked at me and asked, "Is… Is Goten seeing anyone?"

"No. What does he have to do with…?" Oh.

"Well, is he?"

"He's Trunks best friend," I said carefully, trying not to sound judgmental. Actually, those two were more like brothers and it was icky to think about Marron going out with one then moving on to the other.

"It's not that gross," Marron said when she saw the disapproval on my face. "It's not like I ever had sex with Trunks."

"You didn't have sex with Trunks?" I may not have been wild about boys until I discovered my adoration for Piccolo, but even I had to acknowledge Trunks was physically appealing. I wasn't blind after all.

"Yes, he's surprised by that, too," Marron said, smirking. She sighed then went on to say, "I always thought myself a sophisticated and modern person and that I wanted a man who was the same, but most of them are so full of themselves."

"So Goten's just the rube you're looking for," I said hotly.

"It's not like that!" Marron exclaimed.

"Just because Goten didn't go to college or doesn't have some fancy job that doesn't mean he's beneath anybody!"

We'd stopped walking and were facing each other. I felt insulted and I wasn't afraid to show it. I always knew Marron had a superiority complex, and why not? She was remarkably beautiful, highly intelligent and always knew what she wanted and exactly how to get it. She owned herself.

I admit I laughed at all the times she used men and discarded them, even when she did it to Trunks because he needed a kick in the pants, but the thought she might hurt Goten made my blood boil. He reminded me so much of Grandpa Goku. He wasn't the least bit sophisticated and there wasn't an unkind bone in his body. And he was content with his lot in life, which might not have been as successful as my Dad's or Trunks', but he was happy. No one had the right to look down on him, not even Marron.

Marron's mouth was a thin line and that meant she was beyond angry, but being the kind of person she was she wouldn't unleash her anger uncontrollably, she really didn't know how. She turned away for a second then back, and that thin line of her lips was gone. "I… see my parents and how happy they are and I want that. So far I haven't even come close and I think I'm looking in all the wrong places."

"And going out with Goten is what, testing out the shallow end of the pool?" I know I was being a complete wench to her, especially after her confession, which I know killed her to say. But we were talking about my Uncle and I couldn't let her off so easily.

"You're really going to make me say this, aren't you?" Marron said. She began combing her fingers through her hair, straightening out imaginary imperfections. I've never seen her so shaken before. I was almost afraid of what she was going to tell to me. "I always thought Goten was… attractive."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because of this very conversation," Marron said. "Being with Trunks was a mess from beginning to end like every other relationship I've had. I'm tired of making the same mistake over and over. Goten… Look, you know how I am—was—I probably would have wound up toying with Goten and lost you as my friend, so I locked him away in my 'no dating category'. Now… I think Goten and I can make each other happy."

Marron smiled wistfully and continued, "I've known him almost my whole life and… I did think he was too ordinary and laidback and I thought I wanted somebody more challenging, somebody not afraid to stand up to me. I figured only intense, assertive guys could give me that." Marron fell silent and looked miserable.

I knew I could keep giving Marron a hard time, guilt-free, but she was serious about starting something with Goten. If she was, then I wasn't going to stand in the way. I smiled broadly at her and said, "Okay, go for it, but can I be there when you ask him out?"

Marron looked relieved. "Why?"

"I've never seen anyone have a coronary before."

"You talk like he's already agreed to going out with me," Marron said as we began walking again.

"How can he possibly resist?" I asked cheerfully, I was getting into the idea of my best friend and Uncle becoming boyfriend and girlfriend.

"My reputation might scare him, not to mention the things Trunks told him about me. Maybe I'm not his type," she said while compulsively running her fingers through her hair. I didn't believe my ears; Marron was insecure about a guy? That was both disturbing and endearing.

I waited with Marron's family until the announcer called out for the contestants to come to the ring. I joined the other fighters and let the cheers from the audience wash over me. The announcer introduced each of us; Grandpa Goku got the loudest ovation as a former two-time Tenkaichi Budoukai champion. I received the next loudest as granddaughter of Satan, the World's Savior. But our ovations were nothing compared to the one Grandpa Satan received when he walked on stage. Cries of Satan-kun shook the stadium, as the adulation from the crowd grew more and more frenzied. After a few words from Grandpa Satan the semi-finals began.


	3. Chapter 3

We were divvied into thirteen pairs: Goten and Ubuu got regular opponents, as did I. Goku and Vegeta were matched together, thank Kami, which promised to be the most spectacular fight out of our select group of ki users. So would Piccolo and Trunks' match since they too were relatively even in fighting ability.

Piccolo and Trunks took the main stage first. Piccolo threw off his turban and cape and even from where I was standing in the fighter's pit I saw Trunks gulp. I don't blame him, I doubt he's had a genuine fight in years—his sparring with Goten couldn't compare to what Piccolo had in store for him. If Trunks had trained as hard as his dad or my Grandpa Goku Piccolo's chances to win would be almost nil. However, he didn't, so he would have to work to win his match.

They started off without powering up and engaged in breath-taking hand-to-hand combat. Trunks struggled to keep up with Piccolo's skills here; Trunks, like myself, didn't have all the technical know how, although his strength and speed stopped Piccolo from owning him out right. Piccolo knocked the Saiya-Jin into the air with a quick upper cut to the jaw, he then caught Trunks' ankle before he went too high and tried to throw him out of the ring. Trunks tumbled for a few seconds before he locked himself in mid air with _sky dance_. The crowd stared in amazement as Trunks hovered above the ground outside the ring. Breathing hard, Trunks looked terrified at how close he came to being beaten. He flew higher into the sky before exploding into Super Saiya-Jin. His power jumped exponentially, it was impossible to calculate precisely how much power he gained after ascending. Unfortunately, I sensed he wasn't any stronger than Piccolo. The Namek-Jin flew into the air, leveling off at the same altitude as Trunks and then he too powered up, his ki burning white-hot.

"Damn, Piccolo's pretty strong!" Goten said, standing beside to me and looking up at his best friend with concern.

I nodded in agreement, but wondered if Goten sensed Piccolo still hadn't powered up fully, he simply matched his and Trunks' prowess evenly. Piccolo shouldn't have been that much stronger than Trunks, though... it was startling. What I thought might be an interesting fight between equals was going to be a trouncing.

Trunks seemed to realize the same thing a few moments after I did. I saw it on his handsome face. His expression was a mixture of disappointment and resignation, but also determination. Trunks was a Saiya-Jin and the son of the Saiya-Jin prince; he wasn't going to lose without putting up a good fight first.

Trunks flew higher into the sky using super speed. He soared so high anyone without excellent eyesight or the ability to sense ki couldn't tell where he went. After a short period Piccolo followed after him. At first I wondered why Trunks decided to go so high, then I got a glimmer of what his strategy might be: I think he realized Piccolo was superior to him in hand to hand ground fighting and that would make it very easy for the Namek-Jin to throw him out of the ring. But higher up Trunk had more leeway to recover from Piccolo's attacks and height gave him a better chance to counterattack with little risk of touching outside the ring.

It was a good plan and I think Trunks lasted longer than he might have otherwise, but after three minutes of clashing, Piccolo sent Trunks rocketing to the ring like a diver executing a belly flop into a pool. I was already grimacing, anticipating Trunks hitting the tiles stomach first, but Piccolo Zanzokened in front of him and kicked him in the side. The Saiya-Jin guarded against the oncoming blow but the strike still sent him out of the ring. Piccolo used super speed again, this time materializing above Trunks and knocked him to the ground with a mighty two-fisted blow to the back. To his credit Trunks caught himself on his hands and knees and flipped to his feet, but he still touched outside the ring.

As the Announcer declared Piccolo the winner, the Namek-Jin landed in front of Trunks. The Saiya-Jin winced as he straightened up, his back apparently still stung from Piccolo's hit. They exchanged words I couldn't hear over the cheers from the crowd, then the two fighters shook hands and the crowd exploded into applause.

I wanted to run over to Piccolo after he and Trunks returned to the pit, but joined Trunks and Goten and Goku instead, and congratulated Trunks. I was proud he'd stayed on par with Piccolo as long as he did, and not only that devised the best tactic to use. We were all stunned when Vegeta came over and offered his son something analogous to congratulations before walking away.

I lost my nerve, I didn't go to Piccolo; I watched Goten and Ubuu's fights instead, though either didn't especially enthrall me. Then my match came up and I took the platform. Another blond, except he was handsome, and older than my last opponent. And familiar… His name was Kirano. He was one of the few fighters here with some ki ability, albeit a very small one.

I stood and watched Kirano inch towards me, his upper body locked in a defensive posture. He'd seen what I did in the preliminaries and was cautious. When he got close enough, Kirano struck out with an outer crescent kick, which I neatly dodged, but he was quick to follow up with a sidekick aimed for my neck. I jumped up quick enough that my body was already higher than his foot when it reached me. I landed on his leg, balanced daintily on his ankle on my tiptoes before bounding off and back flipping away.

This guy was fast; he caught up to me and tried to elbow me in the gut. I thought about dodging or simply taking the hit, since there was no way he'd hurt me with it. I didn't want to toy with him, though; Kirano was a decent fighter and deserved more respect than that. I put out my hand and caught his elbow, deftly turned him around and kicked him in the back and out of the ring. The crowd cheered for me as the on-site medics came out to carry Kirano away, I did a quick check with my senses and discovered he was only unconscious. Grandpa Satan jumped onto the platform, microphone in hand, and riled up the crowd, at the same time he managed to imply I inherited my skill as a fighter from him.

* * *

The following two competitors took the stage after that and compared to the previous fights their match took time to conclude. Then it was Goku and Vegeta's turn. The crowd had no idea the magnitude of this fight and there was barely buzz of excitement beyond normal anticipation of a match. No one remembered what transpired between to the two the last time they fought during the Tenkaichi Budoukai, except maybe the Announcer, whose voice trembled when he said Vegeta's name. I wouldn't have been the wiser either if Eighteen hadn' told me about Vegeta and Majin.

Grandpa had his serious face on, Vegeta's back was to me, but I was certain his expression reflected Goku's. One second they faced each other, still, powered down, then the next the air erupted. Brightness filled the air and wind blew hard over my face, bringing tears to my eyes; I never blinked. Goku and Vegeta escaped all my normal perceptions, except my sixth sense, and that was barely keeping up with the movement of the Super Saiya-Jin. I knew they were moving at ungodly speeds, and to my senses it felt as though they were everywhere. I gulped, and then bit the inside of my bottom lip. They amazed me, no doubt, and I could never hope to match such prowess, not now… maybe in another ten years, after intense training, but not now.

The Saiya-Jin appeared in the ring and the ground trembled. They'd fallen from the sky and landed hard, both their bodies awash in golden auras and their hair spiked and blistering yellow. Goku was on his stomach and Vegeta was over him, his knee in Gramps' back. Vegeta also had one of Goku's arms twisted behind his back up to his shoulder blade. Grandpa was growling, straining against the hold and wincing in pain.

For a moment I was scared Goku was beaten. That he might actually give up and tap out. But at the same moment I was fretting, Grandpa bent at the waist lifted his legs up until he got Vegeta's head between his feet then clamped his insoles against the Prince's neck. Vegeta audibly "gakked", but did not let go as Goku tried to dislodge him. Both men tightened their holds on one another; Vegeta pressed down hard into the impression his knee made in Goku's back.

"Kame…!" Grandpa cried out brokenly. What was he trying to do? Surely he didn't intend to use Kamehameha with his hands? It wasn't impossible, but Vegeta obviously held a superior position and the chances of hitting him with the beam… unless…

"Don't be foolish, Kakarotto," Vegeta said, grinning despite Goku's feet strangling him.

"Hame…" Vegeta's face was wiped clean of his smirk when he felt the ki gathering against his neck from Grandpa's feet.

Theoretically it was possible to use Kamehameha from your feet, but Krillin told me it was incredibly hard to do, especially firing a beam of any strength. My Grandpa didn't need the beam to be strong but I sensed the ki he collected was very powerful and would definitely hurt Vegeta. Vegeta jumped off Goku and into the air, Goku flipped to his feet and jumped after the Prince. They clashed in midair. Vegeta foot connected with Goku's belly and Goku's forehead slammed into Vegeta's.

Flying apart, Goku and Vegeta's breathing seemed strained as they hovered in midair facing each other. Vegeta had one eye closed, allowing himself only that act to acknowledge the pain he felt. Grandpa rubbed his stomach and gasped openly.

"Why don't you transform, Kakarotto?" Vegeta said, his face once again smooth and arrogant.

I was surprised to hear Vegeta dare Goku like that. Super Saiya-Jin "3" possessed godly power, and there was no telling how much Goku refined that level of Super Saiya-Jin during his long training with Ubuu. Either Vegeta had a plan, or he was plain suicidal.

"I ain't stupid, Vegeta, you won't give me the time I need."

Vegeta smiled. "You never know."

Goku streaked at Vegeta and they once more engaged faster than my eyes could see. Ki was like lightening every time their fists or legs landed blows, immediately followed by thunder. I realized it was getting even harder to follow them with my senses. I glanced at Piccolo wondering if he was having better luck. The Namek-Jin's eyes were closed, his head turning from one side to the other, like a blind man tracking a faint sound in a noisy, crowded space. I understood right away my analogy was a good one, because in a sense that's exactly what he was emulating; with his sixth sense plus his ears, Piccolo had all the tools he needed to follow the battle. Next, I looked at Trunks and Goten and they appeared as lost as I was. Ubuu had followed Piccolo's suit and closed his eyes as well. I sent him a nasty look he couldn't see, turned away and closed my eyes.

From there it was about sensing the Saiya-Jin and using my imagination. Vegeta and Goku, in my mind's eye, coalesced into dark silhouettes. It wasn't long before I could identify them by their unique life forces and those murky forms took on more detail. I could almost tell what moves they used by how much energy they expended from a punch or kick; generally a kick used more power than a punch. But I knew I only "saw" half the battle, since very often their punches and kicks went so fast they might as well been happening at the same time.

Their battle became earthbound once more, small plumes of dust and dirt on the stage so briefly marking where the Saiya-Jin feet touched as they traded blows. Then Goku and Vegeta stopped several feet from the edge of the stage and I opened my eyes; Vegeta and Goku had locked hands and strained against each other, legs braced and deep growls croaking from their throats. I was so focused on their faces and arms and I nearly missed what was behind Goku, down at his feet; what I saw caught me so off guard I didn't know rather to laugh or gasp. Vegeta was on his hands and knees, propped like a footstool, or something. I could see his face and his expression was so very less than thrill. The word indignant didn't begin to describe the look.

Another reason I almost missed the second Vegeta was that he had almost no ki to speak of; I estimated he was about as strong as a regular human. If I hadn't been looking directly at the double, I doubted I'd have noticed its presence. He was so weak it was like he wasn't even there. Then Vegeta's plan crystallized in my mind. It was ingenious, and Kami, I was starting to respect the old guy for it.

Vegeta, the one in front of Grandpa, made his power flare and his muscle mass doubled and he was able to push Goku back. Goku tried to adapt to Vegeta's effort by re-bracing his legs, but tripped over the Vegeta behind him. Uttering a bewildered cry, Goku fell off the stage landing on the ground so… non-dramatically and very disqualified.

For a long moment the entire stadium was silent, no one quite sure what happened. I looked at Piccolo and the others, and though they knew Vegeta used Shinoken I saw on their faces none of them _believed_ they'd seen him use it. The crowd began to cheer, hesitantly at first as the confusion wore off, then more enthusiastically after the Announcer named Vegeta the winner.

* * *

Goten, Trunks, Piccolo and myself clustered together, each taking turns casting suspicious stares at Vegeta while he talked to Goku with the sourest expression on his face. Clearly he wasn't enjoying whatever Grandpa said to him. The four of us were trying to decide who'd go over and ask the Prince how he learned Shinoken? And two, since when did he use tactics like that to win a fight? Goku saved one of us from risking life and limb when he curled his arm around Vegeta's neck and dragged him over to our little group, Ubuu following discreetly behind them. 

"Guess who Vegeta trained with, guys," Goku said, beaming at us with a big grin. Grandpa took his defeat in stride, he was probably more happy for Vegeta than anyone, including Vegeta himself.

"I did not "train" with--" Vegeta began, visibly trying to pull away from the taller Saiya-Jin.

"Tenshinhan!" Goku blurted out.

"Of course," Piccolo said.

"I didn't train with that, that human, Kakarotto! I… simply questioned him about the technique he used against Nappa when we tried to slaughter you all!" Vegeta spoke the last bit with as much potent ire as he could manage.

"Obviously you did more than discuss Shinoken," Piccolo said. "Tenshinhan taught you his technique and it won you the match. Such a simple skill created by a simple race." Piccolo's voice was deep and even, not a hint of mocking entered his tone, but still…

Vegeta threw Goku off hard enough to stagger him. He pushed past Ubuu and stalked away. Grandpa watched him go. "I wonder what's got him so mad?"

"He's used to overpowering his enemies with sheer strength, Son," Piccolo said. "I think he feels as though he's dishonored his Saiya-Jin blood, on some level, by using guile instead."

Everyone absorbed Piccolo's observation in silence. They looked so serious. It was like they understood that stupid mindset of Vegeta's and sympathized with his so-called plight, or something. I didn't. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

"He's crazy! That was probably the smartest move I've seen from… from anyone! Gramps didn't see it coming—it was brilliant!" I shouted.

"You don't get it. Dad going through the trouble of asking for help, any help, and planning that move, embarrassed him. He just admitted he's weaker than Goku and can't win any other way."

A year ago, hell, six months ago I would have been unrelenting and made sure everybody knew how idiotic that sounded. What did it matter _how_ Vegeta won, as long as he _did_? To beat someone stronger than you, someone like my Grandpa Goku, you use everything you got, short of out and out cheating. What Vegeta did wasn't cheating, it wasn't even underhanded, it was inventive and unexpected—it's what battle was supposed to be at its core. But like I said, it wasn't six months ago and I've learned to curb the worst of my brashness; I kept my own council and hoped I didn't develop an ulcer.

* * *

I was still fuming when the Announcer called out the beginning of the second round of the semis. The gigantic score board inside the stadium flashed the names of the remaining six fighters and who was matched to who. I was so pissed it took me a moment to realize my name and Ubuu's were side by side. When it sunk in I was going to get my wish to fight Ubuu I began to feel the glowing rush of battle lust, everything before this moment in the tournament forgotten.

I glanced over at Ubuu expecting to see the glint of exhilaration in his eyes that I knew lit my own. The brown-skinned young man appeared utterly calm as he stared at the ring, contemplation the only expression on his face. Anger began mixing with my lust for battle. Anger that that he could stand there so unaffected… so unafraid… and he should be afraid, I was going to crush him. I'd hurt him if I could. Above all I was going to prove I was the better fighter and that Grandpa wasted his time trying to teach Ubuu, time he should have spent with his real family.

I missed whom the others were matched to, right then I didn't care. And once I heard Ubuu and I had to fight first, it truly didn't matter who Goten would face, or Vegeta, and not even Piccolo. Ubuu and I entered the ring. I mimicked Piccolo's actions from earlier and pulled my cape off over my head and tossed it away from the ring. I noticed when my cape hit the ground it landed with a louder thump than Piccolo's. The weights he'd given me were heavier than his.


	4. Chapter 4

After a few more words from the Announcer, the fight was on. Almost simultaneously we began glowing. Faintly at first, Ubuu's ki aura was purest white and mine was grayish blue, like the color of the ocean underneath a cloudy sky. Ubuu's Mohawk waved steadily but began to stand up straighter as his ki rose higher. My hair lifted off my shoulders and neck, undulating with the vibration of my power. Ubuu and I mirrored each other's ki until the light from our bodies shone so bright we over shone the sun above. Washing out shadow, blinding any who looked upon us.

We moved as one, rushing at each other, our fists pulled back to deliver our blows. I swung, he swung, our speed perfectly even; we'd hit each other at the same time. But I had other plans. I used super speed and evaded Ubuu's fist. I intended to get behind him and punch him at the base of his skull, but swung at flesh that was no longer there. Ubuu used Zanzoken as well and reappeared in the spot that would have been behind me if I hadn't moved and his leg snapped through empty air.

We stared at each other briefly before we sped at each other once more. We moved slower this time, choosing caution over speed. I dodged his first punch easily but the next came at me faster, and soon Ubuu was swinging so fast I could no longer dodge and had to block each punch. He was trying to take control over the fight and I knew I couldn't let him. No more blocking.

I turned aside Ubuu's next punch by knocking the flat of my hand into the side of his wrist, and then caught the following in my hand, squeezing his fist tight. I moved in fast and delivered an uppercut to his jaw, snapping his head back. Then I brought my arm down and chopped at the side of his neck with an overhead Haito and next slammed my elbow into his left cheek. All told the entire combo took a few seconds and when it was over Ubuu went hurdling away from me. I thought I'd staggered him with my assault but Ubuu flipped in mid air and landed on the ring in a crouch. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and he stood up smoothly indicating other than the small cut inside his mouth he was unhurt.

I narrowed my eyes and lowered into a crouch like the one Ubuu just rose from and ran at him, staying low. Ubuu reacted the way I hoped he would; by keeping low to the ground I made it hard for him to land any punches on me and forced him to either move out of the way or use his legs to attack. Ubuu used his legs. He swept his leg out and I pulled my body in tight and leaped over the kick aimed for my head. Then using flight and super speed in conjunction I rocketed at him and buried my fist in his belly, my muscles and momentum multiplying the force of the hit. Ubuu doubled over and I flipped over him, uncurled and slammed my heel into the back of his head, knocking him to the ground.

It was as I expected. I was faster than Ubuu, more maneuverable; he was stronger than me but not so strong I couldn't hurt him. I could beat him; all I had to do was avoid getting hit too much.

Ubuu was slower getting up this time and I watched him come to his feet, his back to me. I wasn't fooled, not for an instant. Ubuu attacked from behind and I turned to block before his after image faded away. My forearms, crossed in front of my chest, took the impact of his right hook and my whole body shook. Even bracing myself was useless and I was sent skidding across the ring, my shoes leaving friction marks on the tiles.

Ubuu kept attacking and got behind me again and tried to kick me in the back, but I ducked it, rose up and caught his ankle on my shoulder then grabbed his foot with both hands. I spun in place and swung Ubuu by his leg and tossed him away from me as hard I could. I wasn't going to give him a chance to recover this time and I flew after him. I got above his flailing body and with a highly controlled burst of ki I fired at him. The beam was wide enough to strike his entire figure and smash him into the ground. I dived down right after, my legs bent, heels on my butt and battered my knees into his back.

The ring exploded and bits of tile flew in all directions as I knocked Ubuu through the ring. I flew off him and landed beside the indentation his body rested in. He appeared unconscious but I wasn't going to take any chances. I reached down and grabbed his Mohawk and dragged him up out of the hole—and got a face full of ki for my trouble. The heat was intense, searing away a few layers of skin on my face and the front of my gi.

Pain made me forget to scream. It made my fingers unclench Ubuu's hair before his ki blasted me away, my body sailing horizontally over the ring at an alarming rate. But I didn't have time to deal with pain, no matter how agonizing, and fought with every fiber of my being to block the sensation of my nerve-endings on fire. Ubuu would be after me in an instant. I lowered my legs and let my heels dig into the ground, slowing my flight and exerted sky dance to stop myself entirely. Just in time too, I had just a second to respond when I saw Ubuu barreling at me. Half floating above the ground I tilted forward and pulled my fist back, ready to put my all into a punch when Ubuu got close enough. Then the strangest thing happened: Ubuu came to a dead stop in front of me.

I righted myself and set my feet down on solid ground, watching Ubuu stare at me, or to be more precise, stare about several inches below my chin. I was reluctant to look down to see what fascinated my opponent in case it was some kind of trick, but I did look down and saw what caught Ubuu's attention. My bra was showing. Frowning, I glanced up at Ubuu's face and saw he was blushing. I didn't think anyone with skin so dark could visibly blush.

I punch him in the face, launching it with all the force I could muster. Thunder sounded and Ubuu went flying this time. I let him go until I saw him about to leave the ring and Zanzokened, catching him by the front of his gi. His eyes rolled, his head wobbled--he was three seconds from passing out. I pulled him close, our noses almost touching.

"Pay attention," I said and threw him back to the center of the ring.

I walked up to him, my face still stinging. Ubuu was slowly regaining his senses and struggled to get to his feet. By the time I reached him he was upright and steady. We stood unmoving, I could sense him re-gathering his energy and I was doing the same. Ubuu was not staring at my breasts.

Ubuu moved first, swinging wide at my head. I knew something was strange about the attack but reacted instinctively and ducked. That was my first mistake. I should have got out of range and by not doing so I left my self open to Ubuu's ki attack which came from the last place I expected: His mouth. I dodged to the side, the ki shooting past me, but I couldn't avoid Ubuu's foot when it collided with my temple. I saw stars go nova behind my eyelids and tasted ozone, then almost threw up when Ubuu buried his knee in my stomach. From there it was a cacophony of agonies pounding into my body as he rained blow after blow upon me. Then the assault ended and I was still, rendered immobile by shocking pain.

There was roaring in my ears and my stomach rolled. Then I was floating, senseless, and it was quiet, but that didn't last long. I'd only passed out for a second then the howling was back and so was the nausea. I was in my own world of suffering, going in and out of awareness. At some point I lost consciousness and this time it lasted for a while. When I next opened my eyes, I was laying down, not on the hard tiles of the ring or the patchy earth around it, but on a softer surface.

Sitting up slowly, aching right up to my eyebrows, I saw I was on a hospital bed. There were four identical beds inside the room I was in—the Medical Unit inside the stadium—and I was the only one there. On the bed beside mine I saw my cape, folded in a neat pile. I swung off the bed and grabbed my cape, holding it in my hands for a moment before sliding it over my head and onto my shoulders. While I was adjusting it I started to cry.

I lost. I lost to Ubuu in front of everybody. _Yeah, I've really proved myself to him. All I did was shame myself like that jerk said I would_. I fell onto the bed on my back and sobbed like a baby. Hating myself for losing, hating myself for crying. Most of all I hated myself for being so goddamned weak!

"Pan." Grandpa Satan called my name softly and I ignored him. I hoped he'd take the hint that I didn't want to see anyone.

"Are you all right, Pan?" Goku asked, his voice so concerned and gentle. I wanted to roll over onto my stomach and bury my face in the mattress. I didn't want to him here. Call me resentful, petty, or whatever, but was I supposed to think he gave a shit about me all of a sudden? I didn't turn over, though, I just covered my face with my hands, got tears and snot all over my palms and cried harder.

They watched me bawl and I ignored all their efforts to comfort me. I was glad when they left and only then uncovered my face… and saw Piccolo standing by my bed. I gulped and slowly sat up. I sniffled a lot but the sight of him dried my tears. Piccolo didn't say anything; he just stared at me cool and impassively. But being the focus of that stare was enough to bring heat to my cheeks. And to lower places, which likely made the crimson tinge in my face deepen.

Piccolo reached out with his right hand and placed his palm on top of my head. There was that fluttery sensation on my body again. When I looked down my gi was repaired, pristine, even if the rest of me wasn't.

"You preformed well," Piccolo said.

I looked up and saw he was already turning away. I couldn't let him walk away from me again, something told me this was my last chance to tell him how I felt. Panic made my heart race and the aches and pangs in my body were gone.

"Piccolo!"

The Namek-Jin stopped and turned back. As hurt as I was I managed to take Piccolo off guard when I tackled him. His powerful frame didn't budge and supported me like I weighed nothing. I folded my arms around his neck, my hands and forearms sliding down his broad back; his muscles felt like granite under my hands, against my chest. His skin smelled like freshly mowed grass. Piccolo's body was nothing like I ever imagined, but everything I ever wanted.

I kissed him.

His lips, lush, not nearly as unyielding as I'd thought, I made mold to mine. I managed to get my tongue inside his mouth, not to French kiss him, but to find out how he tasted. Piccolo tasted slick and sweet, kind of syrupy. I don't know why, but I always imagined he'd be cold and arid as his outward demeanor—where everyone but my father was concerned—showed, but he was warm and wet and inviting. I swirled my tongue around his trying to coax the spongy appendage from inaction to busyness.

Piccolo threw me off him and I landed on the bed, staring up at him shaken by the force he used to push me away. It never occurred to me he was rejecting me, not for a second, I thought he threw me to the bed to ravish me; the way I fantasized he would for the past two years. "What the hell are you doing?" Piccolo exclaimed. The dismay on his face was like a bucket of ice-cold water on my libido.

"I-I-I…" While I stammered Piccolo stood there looking more and more confused. I started grinning. Stoic and serious Piccolo was chiseled handsomeness, but baffled he was… I'd say boyish but I couldn't quite picture him as a child, so I'd have to describe him as being… cute.

"What was that?" Piccolo asked, his tone calmer now.

I stopped grinning. "A kiss," I said.

"Why?"

"I… I love you. I'm in love with you."

"Pan…"

"I wanted to prove I was strong enough for you to love me, too."

"Impossible. What you want is not something I can give."

"Why not?" And, Kami, could I sound more like a whiny brat?

"I am not human, Pan. A Namek-Jin does not feel love."

"That isn't true!" I exclaimed. "You love my Dad."

"Yes, I love Gohan, but you're asking for romantic love. I am incapable of such emotion, mentally and physically."

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised. One more man in my life who can take me or leave me."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself! You're a Son!"

"Yeah, a great legacy." I was getting whinier and bitchier by the second. "Tell me, do you feel anything for me? You gave me this outfit, why?"

"You're Gohan's."

"What's that mean?"

"What Gohan loves, I love."

"So… you care about me, my whole family, because of who my father is?"

"I suppose."

I laughed bitterly. "Well, don't I feel special."

Piccolo sat on the bed opposite mine. I could only blink to express the suddenness of his action. His features soften, not the way they softened for my Dad, but I saw more openness on Piccolo's face directed at me than ever before. "I cannot return the culmination of your feelings, but I can offer my friendship," he told me.

"Friendship?" Did he just ask if we could be friends?

Piccolo's face turned to ice and he stood, his posture ramrod stiff. "Do you think I'd offer such a thing on a whim?" he asked, the proffered comfort in his voice completely gone. Near as he was I could sense Piccolo growing more distant. What I said next would determine if I'd ever see Piccolo again.

"No. No. I accept your offer," I said softly. It was better than nothing. I looked down and only felt a little like crying. When I raised my head I made sure I had a smile on my face. "Don't think I'm calling you Piccolo-sama, though."

Piccolo snorted and walked away, when he got to the open doorway he glanced over his shoulder. "Don't think I'm calling you Pan-chan."

I expected my parents to come in next, or Goten and Trunks, but instead it was Ubuu. He looked as bad as I felt. I knew some of his injuries I'd caused, but I didn't remember damaging his clothes to the extent they were. Then I remembered he made it to the Quarter Finals and that meant he probably had to fight either Piccolo or Vegeta. Considering the sorry state he was in, it was Vegeta.

Ubuu noticed me studying his outfit. "Vegeta, mostly."

"Mostly?"

"There was something new done in the Quarter Finals: A three way match between Vegeta-san, Piccolo-san and myself."

Damn, I missed it! "Kind of a last man standing deal."

"Yes," Ubuu said, then he added, "I enjoyed our fight."

I sighed deeply, pestering the soreness in my chest (Not for the first time since I regained consciousness, I wished Senzu were in season). I sorted through the feelings I had concerning Ubuu, my jealousy and the embarrassment of losing to him, and the exhilaration I felt fighting someone so strong. When I decided which I felt most, I told him the truth. "Yeah, I guess I did, too"

"Are you well enough to leave? Your Grandfather and Vegeta's match will be starting soon."

I leaped off the bed and raced to the door. I was unconscious during the brawl between Piccolo, Ubuu and Vegeta but I wasn't going to miss this for the world. After the disappointments I'd had today seeing Vegeta throw his fight with Grandpa Satan was the pick me up I needed. "Are you coming?" I yelled over my shoulder at Ubuu.


End file.
